The Other Side
by thenerdgeek
Summary: Everyone knows the story of Batman and Robin. But what if Joker took Robin under his wing? After the vat of chemicals changes him, Joker takes Robin as his sidekick, and together they wreak havoc, mischief, and mayhem. But where is Batman, and why is Robin after him? Better yet, why is all of Gotham terrified of him? Alternate dimension. K for safety.
1. Prologue: The Beginning That Never Was

**The Other Side  
**

**AN****: ****IMPORTANT! ****This is my first fanfic, and I would appreciate it if everyone understood something. This story is something my friend and I came up with and is more of a test run for a similar story she is planning to write. However, her story will be with her own characters; not Batman and crew. Critiquing is appreciated, but please, no flames. The characters will NOT be the same as the original. Also please understand the story is more about day-to-day life. There will be occasional crimes to be solved, but I am not very good at writing such things, so this is more of what happens behind the scenes.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Batman, or any of the other characters, however, my friend and I do own the general stupidity that occurs in this story.**

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Prologue: The Beginning That Never Started

Jack Napier stared in horror as the two acrobats and owners of the circus fell to their death as their only son, Richard Grayson, watched in stunned silence. As the crowd hurried to the crushed couple on the ground, screaming and panicking, Jack looked up at the boy who had just become an orphan, feeling a tug in his heart for him as he screamed in protest at his parents' death. He knew how he felt.

Jack had been down on his luck for the past several weeks. His dream was to be a private detective, but nobody would even give him a chance. He'd had a few cases, but had pretty much bumbled through them, and just barely managed to finish the job. Because of that, he had a reputation of being borderline imbecilic. Hence the reluctance people had about asking for his services. So he wasn't conventional, but why should he be? After what he'd been through, his somewhat careless behavior was the only way for him to cope. If he didn't try to find at least SOME humor in his job, he would break down, and succumb to the depression threatening to destroy him. And he couldn't let that happen.

He'd promised her he wouldn't.

Having been rejected for a case yet again, he decided he needed something to lift his spirits. Something to make him smile; and had decided on the circus when he passed the poster stuck to the light post.

However, he almost wished he hadn't. This was more depressing than even his own problems.

As two of the other performers helped Richard back to the ground, Jack knew he couldn't just walk away. He could help; well, he could at least give the kid somewhere to stay until other arrangements could be made. _He_ couldn't take the boy in, but his friend Harvey Dent might be willing to spare some room.

With his mind made up, he walked over, explaining who he was, and what he was willing to do to help. The performers looked at each other, and then at their bosses' son, and agreed to send him with Jack, seeing as they would be busy trying to settle affairs at the circus and would be unable to be around for him much.

They helped him pack, and watched as Jack led the shock-ridden twelve-year-old boy down the street to safety.

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District Attorney Harvey Dent grumbled as the knocking on his door became a frantic pounding. Only one person was crazy enough to come calling at 11 p.m.

He opened the door, prepared to shout his frustrations at Jack, but froze when his saw his friend's tired, haunted face. The last time he'd seen that expression had been in Jack's darkest hour, and it had been nearly three years before he finally became at least somewhat like his old self. It was something he never wanted to see happen to his friend again.

Before he could say a word, Jack spoke quietly, "Harv, I need your help."

Harvey stopped. This was serious; Jack _never_ called him by his real name unless it was something drastic. And the shorter nickname that spouted from his lips proved he was asking a favor as a friend. A _personal _favor.

"Anything, Jack. What happened?"

He watched as Jack stepped slightly to the side and put his arm around the shoulders of an equally haunted child. It was clear now that whatever had occurred, it had happened to the boy, and brought up bad memories for Jack.

"This is Richard Grayson. He's the son of the owners of the circus over in the park. His parents just died in an accident, and he has nowhere to go. Could he stay with you? At least, until other arrangements can be made? I don't have room for him, and I don't want him alone at the circus."

Harvey gave a small, sad sigh and looked from Jack's pleading eyes down to the scarred ones of the child next to him. How could he turn either of them away? Sure, Jack had given him plenty of headaches over the years, but he understood why he was that way. He also understood the reason he seemed to have a soft spot for the poor kid staring blankly at nothing next to him.

There was no reason, no desire, for him to say no.

"Of course. Come in, help me get him settled, and you can both stay the night."

Jack gave him a grateful, if sad smile, and ushered Richard inside towards the stairs as Harvey shut the door. They managed to get Richard to eat a light meal, and into bed, and then retired themselves.

However, before too long, Jack found himself holding a screaming Richard, trying to give some form of comfort as the boy relived the scene he'd witnessed only a few hours before as Harvey tried to find something to help Richard sleep peacefully.

They finally managed to get him to fall back asleep, but he held onto Jack's shirt with a death-grip. After several futile attempts to pry open Richard's fingers, Jack simply sighed and lay down next to the child. After giving a sympathetic smile to his friend, Harvey left the room, shutting the door silently behind him, and went back to bed.

"I never would have thought that I ever would help Jack with a serious problem."

As he fell asleep, he never would have guessed that his broken friend would soon need his help with a much graver problem: his death.

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**AN: Like I said, this is my first fanfic, but go ahead and review! But please, no swearing!**


	2. Chapter 1: The Birth of Insanity

**AN: First of all, thank you to those of you who decided to follow this story. Secondly, I'm sorry about the long wait, when I wrote the Prologue, I was getting ready to go back to Florida for college. Now I'm back at college, my classes take priority, but I will attempt to write as much as I can, but please be aware, I have to be in the mood to write, or I just get bored. But I promise I will try.**

Chapter 1

The Birth of Insanity

Harvey wasn't sure what was worse: Richard still being withdrawn despite the fact that it had been nearly nine months since his parents died, or the fact that Jack had gone missing; resulting, oddly enough, in Richard withdrawing even further.

Jack had disappeared almost two months ago. Harvey had cashed in some favors to have some detectives go out to find him and even hired other professionals to look for him. So far nothing had been found.

When Jack had first brought Richard to Harvey, he had stayed for a couple of weeks to keep an eye on him, then after he had gone back home, made it a point to come check on him at least once every week, if not more. He had kept this up for over half a year, and the last time Harvey had seen him, Jack promised to be back the next day to watch Richard while Harvey went to participate in a trial. But he never showed up, and Harvey was forced to bring Richard with him.

At first, Harvey was upset, thinking Jack had either forgotten or had been delayed somehow. Jack was easily distracted. But as the days went by with no call and no luck in trying to contact his friend, Harvey began to think maybe he had finally gotten a case, and was either under cover or had lost himself in the case.

But he quickly discarded that idea. If he was going to be under cover, then why would he promise to be at Harvey's place the next day? And if he had gotten a case, he probably would've called or come by to throw a mini party to celebrate the fact that someone was giving him a chance. So, no, it couldn't be either of those.

Then what happened? Harvey simply didn't know.

But he was concerned about Richard. About a month after Jack brought him, Harvey officially adopted Richard. He was no longer just a D.A.; he was now the father of a broken young boy.

With Jack, Richard had seemed to come out of the fortress he'd built around himself just enough to give Harvey hope that he might be starting to heal. He had taken the boy to a trauma counselor, but it didn't help him like Jack did. Harvey ended up cancelling all other appointments in the light of that revelation.

But when Jack disappeared, Richard almost completely shut down. He stopped talking altogether except when he cried into Harvey's shirt in the wake of the occasional nightmare. He didn't eat much, he had trouble sleeping, and Harvey couldn't get him to stop staring blankly out the window or into space.

He wasn't coping well.

Harvey looked over at his adopted son, who was once again just staring out into the street. He was rail thin, and pale, with dark bags under his eyes. Harvey was out of his depth. He didn't know what to do to help him.

Tomorrow he would call that trauma counselor again.

He turned to the t.v. to check the news, and almost immediately regretted that decision. There on the screen, was a picture of his missing friend, with the words: "SMALL TIME DETECTIVE DIES IN CHEMICAL PLANT".

The newscaster was explaining that Jack had been seen in the plant chasing someone. Someone who at some point turned and confronted Jack, and during the scuffle, pushed him into a vat of unstable chemicals sitting under the walkway they were standing on. The suspect got away while workers at the plant rushed to try and help Jack. When they finally were able to open drain the container, they found no body; Jack was assumed dead. Eaten alive by the deadly chemicals.

Harvey sat heavily on a chair, unable to wrap his mind around the fact that his friend was dead. The news had stated that the accident had occurred the day Harvey went to the trial. That would certainly explain his absence that day.

He heard a noise behind him, and turned to see Richard looking at the screen. Then before Harvey could move a muscle, he turned and ran upstairs where the sound of a door slamming rang through the house. Harvey knew how he felt. That's what he wanted to do too.

They had never been very close, but they had been there for each other in the darker moments of their lives. Harvey had counted Jack as one of the most dependable people he had ever met. Now he was gone, and Harvey wished he had taken the time to know Jack just a little bit better.

He sighed and hung his head. Mourning like he wanted to wouldn't help anybody. He was now the sole caretaker for Richard. He couldn't afford to mope. He had a boy to take care of.

Turning the t.v. off, Harvey stood and made his way up the stairs with the intent to start bringing Richard out of his shell by offering him comfort over the news of Jacks apparent demise. He had seen enough death; it was time to show him the life ahead of him.

Harvey tiredly made his way to the coffee maker sitting next to the stove. He started it up, then leaned against the counter, still half asleep, to wait for it to finish. He let his eyes drift closed for a moment, jumping when the coffee maker dinged, signifying that it was done. He looked at the clock and realized he had fallen asleep on his feet for about ten minutes.

He grabbed his coffee and turned, thinking of sitting down to read the newspaper, only to freeze when he noticed the silhouette of someone standing on the other side of the kitchen. He shot his hand out and hit the light switch, then jumped several feet in the air screaming at the sight of a bitter clown blocking the only exit, seemingly glaring at him. As his mug clattered to the ground, Harvey ran towards the phone, hoping to punch the numbers 9-1-1 before the intruder reached him.

He managed to type 9-1 when the clown opened his mouth and a familiar nickname spilled out,

"Two-face,"

Harvey froze, then slowly turned toward the clown as it continued to speak,

"I never knew you had the ability to hit a high C."

And with that, the clown started to cackle, a laugh that came out slightly broken and disjointed, making it sound somewhat evil and a lot crazy (AN: Think the laugh from Batman The Animated Series). As the clown's laugh continued to echo in the small kitchen, it grew in intensity and pitch, as well as force, until the clown was left bent over double, with a high pitched, crazed laugh that seemed relentless.

Harvey would have been a little more than slightly creeped out by this, had the words the clown had spoken not been running in loops in his head. Only one person on the planet called him Two-face, at least, to his face. Harvey had a split personality that liked to make itself known when he was frustrated or angry. He tried to keep it under wraps, telling no one but the one person who had witnessed the switch over firsthand. Said person then gave him the nickname Two-face as a joke.

The same person who was supposed to have died in an accident in the chemical plant nearly a month ago.

"Jack?"

The clown abruptly stopped laughing as his head snapped over to face Harvey. He straightened and simply looked sadly at the D.A. Harvey looked properly at him for the first time.

His skin seemed to be permanently stained white, and looked….wrong, somehow; almost like it was fake. His lips were an unnatural shade of red, and his hair was now dyed an slick, electric green and his nails were pitch black. And worst of all, his eyes looked unstable and haunted; almost like he had a mental breakdown.

In the simplest of descriptions: his friend looked like a clown that had just been thrown out of the circus and didn't know how to handle it.

"Jack's dead, Two-face. But I'm still alive and kickin'! Or at least, I would be, but I left my kicking shoes in the river!"

At this, Jack started cackling again, barely stopping to breathe as he laughed at what he seemed to think was a good joke. Harvey could only watch in horror as his friend appeared to be fighting to regain his lost sanity.

After several minutes of laughter, Jack finally wound down and then turned to face Harvey once again when the D.A. spoke,

"Jack, what happened to you? Where have you been?"

Jack turned serious and after a moment's thought, answered, "I'm not really sure. I'm going to guess it was the goo that I was pushed into that did it," Jack focused on Harvey again, this time with a half-crazed grin, "But I think this is a better look for me, don't you?"

And at this, Jack started cackling again, but with a bit more sanity this time. Harvey just stared at the man, realizing the surprise at falling into the chemicals, the pain of the alteration caused by the chemicals he went through, and the utter shock at his new appearance had addled his brain.

He was witnessing the result of everything Jack had gone through: the birth of insanity.

His friend was truly crazy. He needed help.

But what help could he get? As far as the world was concerned, Jack Napier was dead. They had even had a small funeral for him. And if he "came back from the dead", only proving himself insane, he'd be locked up in Arkham. Harvey wouldn't be able to stand that.

Not to mention his pretty gruesome appearance would absolutely terrify any potential psychiatrists willing to see him. Then there was the potential of him being locked up as doctors fought to make him at least _look _normal again. No, he had to stay out of sight.

He had to stay here, where Harvey could keep an eye on him.

"Jack, I think you should stay here."

His crazy friend looked up at him, "And why would I do that?"

"Think about it, Jack. The rest of the world thinks you're dead. Your landlord repossessed your apartment, I have your computer and personal items, and the rest of your stuff was auctioned off. Where would you go? And I don't think it would be a good idea to let Gotham know you are alive. It wouldn't end well for you. I can set you up in the basement."

Jack stood looking at the ground, with a thoughtful expression on his face. After a minute of thought, he looked back up.

"I will agree on two conditions….I get my computer and other stuff that you got, and I get to decorate the basement to my specifications."

Without a second thought, Harvey replied, "I'll go get your stuff."


End file.
